


Heart Beats(On the Clock)

by Justanothersinger



Category: Kagerou Project
Genre: F/F, M/M, Multi, kuroshin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-02-08 17:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1950321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justanothersinger/pseuds/Justanothersinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles depicting the Countdown AU: a world where people are born with clocks on their wrists counting the seconds until they meet their soulmate. Will include multiple pairings, gore, smut and depending on the situation, major character death.</p><p>((NOTE: Unless specifically stated, none of the drabbles will take place in the same circumstances as the previous ones and will exist in a setting entirely unique to them.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Count Down

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: konoshin, kuroshin  
> Rating: T
> 
> Warnings: character death, blood, unwanted sexual advances.

**Chapter 1: Count Down.**

Shintaro curses under his breath and shoots yet another glare at his computer, intended for the little clock in the corner, even as it ticks away the seconds to his imminent doom.

Though in all honesty, he didn't even need to look at it.  
  
He looks to his left arm for what seems like the nth time since this morning, when he was woken up 6 hours than he would have liked by a jolt of what felt like electricity along his arm, fingertips to elbow and centered around his wrist.  
  
He plucks his glove, revealing for a millisecond the familiar red rim that he's known all his life and he wrenches his eyes away as his heart skips and his gut tightens.  
He isn't fast enough.  
  
 _4 minutes._  
  
4 minutes until he meets them.  
  
Well that was fine. Great. Wonderful.  
  
Except for the  _small_ fact that his supposed soulmate had absolutely no concept of time whatsoever because he was 2 months too early.  
  
He picks up the remaining clothes off the floor and dumps it in his cupboard on top of every other damn thing that he owns and closes the door shut before he causes yet another mini-landslide in there. Once done, he wanders back to the living room and fiddles around with the books on his shelf again, even though he's done it around 80,632 times and the rest of his house is still messy and oh god this was really happening, the moment that he'd been dreading, anticipating, waiting for ever since he knew the meaning of the little clock melded into his skin.  
  
 Was it really this simple?

His finger trails the spine of a book absentmindedly as he mind starts to wander.  
  
What if he didn't like them?  
  
What if...they never fell in love with him?  
  
Hell, why would they in the first place? A virgin and a NEET at 18, his skin pale, eyes dark from failing to attain more than a handful of hours of a deep sleep for weeks on end, skinny and breakable like he'd fall to pieces at any moment.  
  
No. Impossible.  
  
And yet, he still feels that oddly sweet sensation; a hair-raising tingle along his arm a pulse in his skin that dances to his heartbeat, rapid and shaky from fear and excitement.  
  
 _1 minute._  
  
He steps away from the bookshelf and makes his way to the door.  
  
 _27 seconds._  
  
A scream fills the room as a stronger shock runs along his arm.  
  
 _25 seconds._  
  
It's not pleasant at all. Not like...it hurts. It hurts!  
  
 _22 se??n?s_  
  
He barely registers the pain in his knees as they meet the floor, every scrap of his consciousness focused his wrist, and his breathing is harsh heartbeat pounding in his ears, this was wrong, horrifically wrong, this wasn't...they never mentioned, never once taught him anything like this...!

_?? s????d?_

He moves, whether to get up or lie down, he doesn't know and the motion sends his sprawling on the floor and his wrist throbs and he can hear his own voice, as if from a deep, black well, his pathetic whimpers and the hard grip of his arms on his arm but it doesn't stop, doesn't stop, why, why won't it stop...?!  
  
His eyes fly open when a sudden gust of air passes his cheek and another scream is trapped I bus throat, a strangled moan leaving his lips as his back meets something cold, something hard, wrung through a sudden, vice-like grip on his neck and the touch is _cold,_ really cold, cold as death.  
  
It's only then does he realize that his ears are picking up on something and it takes him a moment to realize that he's hearing words, spoken in a soft, soothing, unfamiliar voice.  
  
"...quite skinny, aren't you?"  
  
He moves his neck and yellow fills his vision, vibrantly bright, yellow eyes, framed by wisps of black hair that frame a pretty face and a cruel smile.  
He manages to see all this before the stranger leans in and their lips meet, a clumsy kiss with shock-numbed lips. He shudders as a cold hand sneaks under his shirt and smears warmth on his skin, a shiver trailing his spine and leaving his lips in a hitch of breath.  
  
It's only when he smudges his cheek and sneaks in his mouth, only then does the coppery taste strike up a memory in his mind, only then does he see the red dripping off the man's cheek and chin.  
  
Only then does he look down and see a person at his feet, limbs akimbo, like a puppet with its strings snapped mid-performance and surrounded in more of the red, that hopelessly cruel red.  
  
Pale pink eyes and a bleeding mouth is all he sees of the 'puppet's' face before he feels a hard yank on his arm, his aching arm and he looks back up to see his own arm, papery-white, lax. 

His eyes are drawn back to the clock on his wrist that had been counting the seconds to the best and worst moment of his life, sees a screen with spiderweb cracks, the rim biting into his skin, dripping identical red.  
The numbers on the screen are not at zero. 

They're not even displaying anything. All he can see is the blank white of the screen.

"I wasn't pleased to hear that my brother had found his soulmate...ah, no", the stranger says with a chuckle that seems to freeze the blood in his veins and he learns that his fingers are shaking only when he laps at the blood from his wrist and they meet the cold of his skin.

"That's putting it mildly. I was  _livid._  But you...I wasn't expecting to find a weak little thing like you here. You're lucky, you know. If I hadn't got to you first, that idiot would have choked you to death with just a hug of his. And I..." He licks his lips, touching upon the blood of his face and Shintaro sees the glint of a pointed fang as his mouth curls into an unnerving grin, "I would like to squeeze the life out of your sad, pathetic shell of a body but...I've changed my mind."

And the man's gloved hand is near his own, pushed up to reveal his own clock.

A row of zeroes flash back at him. 

"Let's get to know each other better, shall we? Kisaragi Shintaro?"


	2. Talking to Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Momo might talk to herself and Kido might be hopelessly pining after her.

Chapter 2: Talking to Shadows

This was the third time. The third time!  
Momo looks behind her shoulder quickly and the feeling vanishes.

This was the third time that she'd felt someone watching her.  
Of course, she usually feels someone's gaze on her wherever she went. Her entire idol career was based on that, wasn't it?

This was different though. For some reason that she couldn't put her finger on.  
She feels the gaze and it vanishes a few seconds later, as if they were aware that she knew they were watching her. Not continue staring at her unabashed, like her power forces people to. Demands them to.  
Who was it? Who was it?

She still didn't know. But it's making her anxious.  
What did they want with her?

Why did they look away?

Why couldn't she find out the reason behind their gaze?

Was it because they could look away?

Was it possible they weren't affected by her 'power'?

She freezes. The train of thought in her head continues, unheeding. Spinning into wild words, out of control.  
If they weren't affected by her power, then...  
Then...could they see past her idol persona?

Could they see her?  
Could she...finally make a true friend after all these years?

But why were they looking at her in the first place? Why did they keep looking?

Maybe they weren't completely immune and kept looking at her?

Or maybe the one true person that could resist her power could be a creep or stalker or something? That would be just her luck, wouldn't it. She sighs.  
She hears a clatter and jumps to attention when she hears someone talk to her.

"Miss? Your coffee."  
"Ah! Oh, uh. Thank you." Momo says, smiling sheepishly. The pretty waitress nods her head and asks, "Do you want anything else?"  
"Uh, nope! No thank you."  
"All right."

Watching the girl walk away, Momo wonders if she'd been talking out loud. The waitress looked quite concerned while she spoke to her.  
Ahhh...I need to solve this and quickly.  
With that resolution in mind, she quickly downs the coffee. Leaves the money on the table and walks away.

While unbeknownst to her, the instant the pretty waitress had disappeared into the kitchen, she leaned heavily against the door. Covering her face.  
"Ah...that was close."  
"Eh...Kido? You alright? You look worn out."  
"No, I'm not." Kido says heavily. Her words are to her brother, but her eyes are on her wrist.

00: 00: 00

The clock on her wrist that had stopped an eternity ago seemed to mock her with those arrangement of zeroes. Mocked her with something she couldn't have.  
The other girl's clock still hadn't stopped after all.  
She makes her way to the window and stares through the bright blue. Sees the girl shrink in the crowd, pull up the hood of her strange sweater over her hair.  
"Just when I'd finally found her...hah."  
"Kido?"  
"I didn't realize how cruel the gods could be until now."

Down below, down below, while a star on the earth tried to blend with the crowd...  
...the clock on her wrist stopped for a brief moment.


End file.
